Crow: Youthful Innocense
by ReFreshedApproach
Summary: Other Crows have come back out of vengeance, what happens if one comes back and doesn't know why...
1. Intro

Can't breath.the pain in his chest.wait, there is no more pain.he looks down but all he sees is darkness.  
  
Where is he? His hands reach out, feeling along the contours of where he was. Their was no way out. He tried to push out but felt only a minor budge. How did he get here? His memory slowly came back to him of what had happened just before he had blacked out.  
  
.walking down the street. .his basketball falling out of his hand. .looking both ways before going to get it. .a speeding car coming at him from out of nowhere, going faster than he knows it should. .the car hitting him, his body being flung several feet in the air before landing on a nearby car, cracking the windshield and his skull. .the last image he remembered before closing his eyes were of his mom's loving tears falling down on him. He had started to cry to, he doesn't remember why, and heard her say 'I love you' before his vision went dark.  
  
Had he died? That couldn't have happened. He wouldn't be here now if he was.  
  
He pushed again, trying to get out, but it still went nowhere. He started to yell at the top of his lungs.  
  
"HELP!!! HELP!!! I CAN'T GET OUT!!! PLEASE HELP!!!".  
  
* * * * *  
  
Jason Monroe's life is nothing close to how he had imagined it. He lives a life of solitude, a poor man in the corner of the graveyard he calls home. He didn't use to be like this, an honors student in high school back in the 70's. Drugs and free sex changed his perspective on life, away from a major in academics to working at a local fast food diner just to pay for the heroine one of his ex's got him on.  
  
Now, almost 20 years later, here was his "fruitful" life: begging for spare change, eating maybe once every two days, his family disowning him, and going nowhere fast.  
  
He has pondered suicide, ending his miserable existence and hoping in his next lifetime he gets a chance to make his life better, more meaningful.  
  
He lays down on a nearby grave, one of several beds that have no weeds growing near it. The grass is soft, was mowed only last week by the groundskeeper who knows he is here and is the major contributor for his food supply. Looking up at the sky, the stars are out tonight. He makes out the Big Dipper, the Little one as well, and is working on the Hercules constellation when he hears a muffling sound.  
  
Sitting up, he tries to find out what that noise is. It's coming from somewhere close, but he can't see anyone.  
  
"Hey!!! Who's there?" he yells into the darkness. Silence is his only answer.  
  
He thought he had been imagining it when he hears it again. He jumps up, asking to the night again "Who's there???" and knows that he won't get an answer again. The muffling sound comes again, and Jason is wondering if the heroine withdrawal is kicking back in. He remembers several years ago when this had first happened, he was.  
  
Memories were put on hold by a birds caw over his head. He looked up, saw a black bird swoop over his head and land on a tombstone two ahead of where he was laying at. A raven? A crow? Jason wasn't sure as he slowly approached the bird. It looked at him the whole time, not understanding what was going on tonight. As he got closer to the bird, the muffling he had earlier got a little bit louder, clearer. He thought he made out the word.  
  
"Help?" he softly said. Why would someone being saying that unless they were.  
  
Jason dropped to his knees, placed his ear to the ground and heard it clearer. Despite six feet of dirt he heard it all. He began to dig, using his hands to tear out the grass and get to the dirt underneath. It had rained a couple of days ago, and though the grass was dry the dirt underneath was still moist, easy to remove. After several minutes of digging he felt his fingers strike a hard object. Pushing the remaining dirt aside he tried to lift up the lid but couldn't. There was still a lot of dirt covering the coffin's lid, and this wasn't one of those that opened up halfway.  
  
Jason jumped out and ran to where he keeps his normal home, a break in the inner wall where rain doesn't get to on the stormier days. Inside was miscellaneous trash he felt was important enough to keep around. In the back was a piece of granite from a tombstone that was replaced several months ago. It was about a foot long with a pointy edge on it. He grabbed it and ran back to the coffin, jumped in, and yelled down "Watch out, I'm going to break it open!!!"  
  
Lifting the piece of rock above his head he slammed it against the coffin head, and when he saw it bend in he repeatedly hit at it until he saw a hole big enough to slip his hands into. He pulled up with all his might, feeling the corners of the lid give way some, then pulled more. The force by which he was pulling ended up ripping off the lid, throwing his body back and out of the hole he had dug up. He banged his head on a headstone, and when the stars fiddled away, he looked up and towards the coffin.  
  
A head was sticking out, and after a moment he could see the person in the moonlight. It was a little boy. He couldn't be any older than seven, eight the most, white, dressed in a tuxedo. The boy looked in his direction, then came out of the grave and towards Jason.  
  
Scared, Jason moved away, crawling backwards away from him until his back hit a tombstone. The boy came towards him, his hand extended out. Jason tried to look away, but out of fear he continued looking forwards. He thought it was a ghost, an apparition coming to haunt him for his awful past.  
  
* * * * *  
  
It was weird, one moment he was yelling at the top of his lungs, then next he heard someone coming to help him. It wasn't until the roof of where he was came off that Tom knew where he was. He knew that he had died when that car had hit him, knew that his mothers tears on him meant that he had died. And though only eight years old, he knew he had been brought back, maybe by the crow that rested on his tombstone, for some reason. Now he just needed to find out why. 


	2. Truth

"Where am I?" Tom asked the man.  
  
Jason was huddling against a tombstone; he could see blood was coming along the side of his neck from the wound he had sustained from the tombstone when he opened the casket. He has yet to get his bearings on reality, yet to know what is going on here. Right now, less than two feet in front of him was a boy who he just helped to get out of a coffin.A COFFIN!!! Was he losing his mind, it must have been the heroin from years past coming back creeping up on him.  
  
"I'm real Jason" Tom said to him. Jason looked at the boy, not believing this could be real. Who would have thought this kid, this boy, can be here, living, breathing right in front of him. He feels faint, but the boys warm hand touches his own, and Jason looks down, not thinking of pulling away.  
  
"Who are you?" Jason asks him.  
  
"My name is Tom."  
  
"How did you end up in there?"  
  
Tom looks away for a second, back towards his grave, then comes back and looks at Jason. Tears have started to run down his cheek.  
  
"I.I.diiieeeeddd." was the only two words out of his mouth before running into Jason, his arms outstretched. Jason didn't know what to do, hesitantly putting his arms around little boy. Tom was warm to his touch, like a normal boy, not like the zombies you see in the late night horror movies. He was real, flesh and blood, crying on his shoulder.  
  
"I wish I knew what to say," Jason whispered into the crying boy's ear. "I wish I had some answers for you, something comforting, but I don't."  
  
Tom looked up at Jason, tears streaking down from his youthful face. He looked like he was going to cry some more, but then used the sleeve of his tuxedo and wiped away the tears from along his cheek.  
  
"I want my mom. Can you help me get to her?"  
  
Jason looks away, not sure how to respond. Here is a boy asking for his help, yet he couldn't help himself. He lived in a graveyard, barely ate, didn't care for himself, yet is being asked by a dead boy to help him get home.  
  
He wanted to refuse, and was going to, but it was at that moment the little boy took his hand and changed all of that. Looking down, he saw the boy, Tom, looking back up into at him. His tears were gone, his touch was warm, and if he was dead, that was in the past for this boy here is surely alive.  
  
"Ok, I'll help you. Where do you live?"  
  
Tom thought for a second, then answered. "Off of West Canal Street."  
  
"That's not that far away. We can be there in about 10 minutes."  
  
He watched as Tom's face lit up, eager to move.  
  
They walked out of the graveyard and down the street, towards Devon heading towards West Canal. With each step Tom got more excited, eager to be getting closer to home. He didn't open up anymore, remained quiet the whole time. Jason had looked to the sky several times, trying to find the crow that had left the graveyard to follow them. He heard the rustling of feathers above him, but couldn't see it due to it's black color.  
  
It was a couple of minutes later when they came upon West Canal, then two houses down the road was Tom's. He walked briskly towards it, then the last 20 feet he slowed down some before coming to stop before the fence.  
  
"I'm home" he said, his head turning back to look at Jason. "I'm home."  
  
Jason didn't know what to say, was puzzled as to what to do next.  
  
"I'm going to go now," Tom said to him. "You can come in if you want, my mom won't mind." When he saw him protesting, Tom begged.  
  
Jason couldn't take that, so he turned around and came back towards Tom, then they both walked back to the house and towards the front door. Tom tried to open the door but it was locked. He knocked twice, then waited, then knocked again twice. The door started to open. Tom turned around, hoping to see his mom's smiling face, but instead was greeted by an elderly man standing there, looking down at him.  
  
"Can I help you two?" his quivering voice spoke into the night.  
  
Tom looked frightened, not knowing what to do or say.  
  
"This boy is looking for his mom that lives here," Jason said in Tom's place.  
  
"I live alone, bought the house with my retirement money several years ago," the elderly man said.  
  
Tears were flowing down Tom's face. Disbelief was apparent to all who were staring at him.  
  
"That is not true, I just saw her a couple of days ago.She was outside with me, playing ball before I had run in the street.She is here she has to be, where."  
  
"Young man," the old man interrupted, "I know who you are talking about, but she hasn't lived here in years, at least 8 years. She left after her son had died in an horrible hit-and-run accident."  
  
Tom turned around, came to Jason. He put his arms around the boy, not sure what to do next. The old man kept on talking, but they didn't hear. He held Tom as they walked down the street and away from the past, with Jason not sure what to do from here on out. 


	3. Realization

They walked down the street, took a couple of turns before coming to a dead end in an alleyway a mile down the road. Jason sat on the dirty ground, Tom put his arms around him, and Jason could hear him crying into his shoulder. He wanted to tell him it would be all ok, but why. He knew it wouldn't be. He lived in a graveyard for Christ's sake. How could he take care of a boy when he couldn't take care of himself.  
  
His train of thought stopped when Tom lifted his head from his shoulder, and truend to look into Jason's eyes. Jason didn't think he could see them, the light from the alleyway didn't reach this far back into it, but he sensed that the boy could.  
  
"Why am I here?" Tom asked him. There was a pain in his voice, sadness he was not use to hearing even when his luck was below bad. "Why did I come back? I know I died. If God brought me back, why didn't he do it earlier when my mommy was still here where I can find her?"  
  
He had no answers. He didn't know what to do. He had once heard of something years ago as a child about the dead coming back.  
  
"The crow." Jason said aloud. "The crow brought you back."  
  
Tom looked at him, maybe as if he was crazy, maybe because he didn't understand the significance of the crow.  
  
"Years ago, when I was a young boy around your age, my mother told me a story about a crow. It was no ordinary crow, it had the ability to bring someone back that was wronged. 'The soul wouldn't rest until it had it's revenge', is what she had told me. I never believed it myself, I mean, a crow that could bring back someone. But then when I first found you, before I got you out of your grave, there was a crow on your tombstone. I thought it was a fluke, then realized that that same bird has been following us ever since we left the graveyard."  
  
Jason pointed to a fence nearby, where the moon was slightly casting an illumination upon it. The crow was standing on top of it, his head moving all around, not looking at one thing particularly too long. It then turned in their direction, and flew from the fence post towards Tom's arm. He was frightened for a moment, then he looked at the bird, and Jason felt that the bird was communicating with him. He saw Tom's head nod a couple of times, then the bird flew off, back to the fencepost.  
  
"It says that we have to find my mom, and it knows where she is," Tom said out of the blue. Jason looked into his eyes the best that he could despite not being able to see it all. Tom's eyes stared straight forward, not blinking, not moving.  
  
"Where is your mom at? Is she near by?"  
  
"The crow says that she is close by. Down the street a mile or so.past some big trees.then a right on a street called Sycamore."  
  
"You got all of this from the bird just looking at you."  
  
Tom turned towards, Jason, a smile on his face. "He spoke into my mouth, silly. Birds can't talk."  
  
Tom got up, grabbed Jason's hand, and walked out of the alleyway, turned right, and started to follow the birds instructions. The crow was above them, giving the boy instructions as to where to turn. After an hour it seemed, they came upon Sycamore Avenue, they turned right, and came face to face to a cemetary. Tom stopped walking, stood still as Jason took a closer step towards it. 'Sycamore Cematary' was the name on the sign next to the opening.  
  
He turned around, looked back Tom who was laying on the ground in a fetal position, crying and rocking himself. Jason came to his side, lifted him and held him. "It's going to be ok." was all he could say. He held him like this for several minutes until the crying stopped, then when he looked down, he saw that Tom was afraid.  
  
Jason got up and walked to the cemetery entrance, pushed open the fence, and turned to the left. He found a concrete slab, and put Tom down, then took off his jacket and placed it over him. He then strolled throughout the cemetery, looking for him mom. He wasn't sure why he would find her, he didn't have her first or last name, but he knew he would.  
  
After a minute or so, he heard the crow in the distance, and started to run towards it. There it stood, on top of a small plaque in the grass. Bending over, he read an inscription on it:  
  
Martha Bentley Born: March 16, 1966 - Died: October 12, 1994 Loved: By all who knew her  
  
"She left behind family and friends to go be with her son in the afterlife, the one thing she cherished more than her own life. May God forgive her soul for what she did. We will miss her here, and look forward to seeing her later in heaven with Tom, her son."  
  
Jason looked away from the plaque, and made his way back to Tom. He thought the whole trip back, on how the mother had killed herself a year after her son had died. She must have been overwhelmed with pain and sadness. Jason himself had never experienced anything like that, and probably never will, being alone for most of his life.  
  
He came upon the concrete slab where Tom was still sleeping. He got on top of it, and crawled up next to him. Tom flipped over in his sleep, now facing Jason. His right arm came up and wrapped itself around Jason's neck. He left it there, not going to move it, not sure what tomorrow will bring. Not sure where to go from here.  
  
  
  
Ok, now I know that this one is not as long as the rest of them, and that it came suddenly, but I had to end this point of the story quickly to get to the better parts. And to let you all know, I have an R-rating on this story because, though the first 3 chapters are nothing (maybe PG at best), the rest get gruesome, disgusting, not because I want I have to, but because what you find out from here on out describes the fury of The Crow.  
  
For those that have never read this before, this is my first fan-fic for an idea created by James O'Barr. I first noticed his idea while watching the movie THE CROW, and it wasn't until this year that I saw the other two movies, and started to buy the comics revolving Eric Draven and other characters.  
  
To end this note, I have received one review, and encourage more if you seem fit to take the time to write one in for me. If you know ways of having me improve the story, email me at my email address given. The only way to improve on something is to have it critiqued. I have one review for this story, though anonymous, and if you write back in, let your name be known. You have nothing to hide, if you like it, be proud that you read it. If you do leave a review with a corresponding name, I promise I will critique your work, not out of guilt that you read mine, but because I am a writer, and I read too darn much, and enjoy the works of others.  
  
Ok, enough of me for today, I have done 1 ½ chapters sitting here at work, will start another, may even finish, but enough of that. It is the weekend of Labor Day, lets all get lazy and do nothing but read and barbeque. 


	4. First to Die

The morning sun brought Jason awake, as did the feeling of loneliness. He opened his eyes, seeing Tom not there, then bolted awake, sitting up, looking around. Jumping off the stone, he ran for the only place Tom could be: his mother's grave.  
  
Turning a corner, he came up on the grave, with Tom laying on the soft grass. The crow was settled on top of her tombstone, cawing at Tom. The boy looked up at the crow, then turned towards Jason.  
  
"It's time to go," he said in his sweet, innocent voice. He stood up, placed a kiss on his hand, and then placed it on the tombstone. For a second Jason thought he could hear the sound of sobbing on the wind the moment Tom's hand left the stone reminder of his mom, but it could just be him hearing things.  
  
Tom walked up to Jason, took his hand, and guided him out of the cemetery. Pedestrians walking by stared at the oddly trio: the local homeless man, young boy in a dirty suits, a crow resting on the boy's shoulder.  
  
They walked down the street, turned into an alleyway, and Tom motioned for Jason to sit. Jason found an undirty spot on the concrete, used the wall for support, and waited. Since seeing Tom at the grave, he didn't notice before that the boy had been crying, but staring up at him, the sun behind the boy, casting shadow on half his face, he realized that his eyes were red, as if crying all night.  
  
"Tom.are you ok?"  
  
It took a minute for the boy to respond to the question.  
  
"Jason.why are you with me?"  
  
Jason's heart pounded, surprised by the question. "I don't know. I have never cared for anyone, not even myself as you can tell. And you are young and innocent and no one to turn to."  
  
Tom took several moments before saying anything else, as if trying to figure out in his little mind the best way to say it.  
  
"I talked to my mom last night and today."  
  
Jason's eyes widen up, from shock of what he just heard. His eyes closed just as quick, realizing that nothing can really be shocking or surprising anymore. Here he was with a crow and a dead boy, why should he be shocked that this dead boy talked to his mom in his grave.  
  
"What was said?"  
  
"She doesn't know why I came back," Tom spoke quietly. "She knows about the crow, all those in heaven do, but she is not sure why I came back. There has never been such a young one sent back."  
  
Jason interrupted. "Maybe they made a mistake, maybe you weren't suppose to come back."  
  
Tom's eyes narrowed, looked right into Jason's. "The crow never makes a mistake. My mom told me what happened 8 years ago. Told me that a car full of young boys came speeding down the road and hit me when my ball had bounced into the street and I went after it. She told me that after the funeral, she tried to sue them but their parents had more money, that they lasted longer than her in court. She sold the house to help pay for the lawyers, but they stopped when she got broke. She died alone, heartbroken, no revenge for what they did to me."  
  
Jason kept quiet and listened, taking in the whole story. He knew that what he said was true, not sure why, but that it was.  
  
"How can I help?"  
  
"My mom says there was three boys. That the three boys all still live in the city. She gave me one of their names: Joey Rigaldo. She says he is around this area. That we need to send him to heaven."  
  
"Wait, wait, wait.no no no.your mom wants us to kill him???" Jason said, standing up, pacing up and down the alley. "We can't go around and kill people. They may have made a mistake before, but I'm sure that by now they are different."  
  
Tom walked over to where Jason was pacing and took his hand.  
  
"Close your eyes and look through their eyes."  
  
"Their eyes." Jason questioned, but still closed his eyes. The moment his eyelids touched sparks flew through his brain. He tried to let go but the boys hand was like a vice, it wasn't budging or letting go.  
  
Images of "their eyes" filled him head. He saw what others saw around Joey Rigaldo. He was women's faces as they looked up his terrifying face as he raped them, then beat them. He saw men's faces as Joey had held a gun on them, took their money and possessions, then shot them in the chest. He saw lives being taken away by a brutal man.  
  
The last image he saw was of a little boy in the street, and Joey was in the passenger seat, saying 'Go faster, hit that fucker', and of the car hitting Tom, the boys fragile frame hitting the front of the car, bouncing up, his head crashing into the windshield and flying off the back, and of the car never stopping, never braking, never looking back.  
  
His hand went numb, the vice was let go, and Jason tumbled backwards, his back hitting the wall. Tom watched him, saw him shaking, tears filled his eyes.  
  
Jason tried to shake it off, and after several moments it passed. He walked over to the crying boy and held him, picked him up and let him bury his tears into his well worn shirt. The more Tom cried, the more the Jason wanted to cry, until he couldn't hold back either and Jason sat on the concrete, them both crying over what they saw.  
  
Eternity passed with the sun shining straight above them, then passing to the west. Jason pulled out a well-used handkerchief and wiped the tears from his face. He studied him, Tom's face, no wrinkles yet a burden to face for such a young boy. He couldn't let him go through this alone.  
  
"Whe.where is he.?" Jason said in between sobs.  
  
Tom didn't say a word, just kept looking at Jason. He then raised his left arm and extended a finger, pointing towards the opposite end of the alley.  
  
"Wait a minute." Jason stuttered, ".he's in this alleyway." Tom nodded his head, ".right now." Tom nodded his head again.  
  
Jason's heart stopped for a moment, not sure where to go from here. His mind knew he wasn't a match for most men, but he had to do something, he promised.  
  
Jason looked down for a moment, then looked back up into Tom's awaiting eyes.  
  
"Show me."  
  
Tom took his hand and led him down the alleyway. The deeper they went in, the darker it seemed to get, till they traveled 30 feet in and met a crossroad, to go left or right. Tom pulled Jason to the left, and no more than a couple of meters in they met Joey Rigaldo, or at least a former image of him.  
  
He heard their approaching footsteps and looked up, showing them what eight years can do to a young man. When he was in the car with the two others, he was young, 17, noncaring. Now he was 25 but looked not a day younger than 40. His hair was long, he had a beard, his clothes were worse off than Jason's. The smell coming from his reeked of body order and feces, and a glimpse to his left showed where he had slept in his own shit.  
  
Jason made the first move, dropping to a knee, looking into Joey's eyes, all glazed over, maybe from drugs, maybe from lack of reality.  
  
"Are you Joey Rigaldo?"  
  
Joey looked up, smiled at the two. Where a full set of teeth once were now only stood 4 teeth, blackened.  
  
"And who wants to know?" came a rough voice, hacking after the final word was spit from his mouth.  
  
"Do you remember this boy?"  
  
Joey looked at Tom, from top to bottom.  
  
"No, should I? He's not my son is he???"  
  
Jason stood back up, looking down on Joey. "You're not good enough to be his father. Try to remember: 8 years ago, you and two friends in your car, hitting a little boy going for his ball. Anything ring a bell?"  
  
Joey looked puzzled for a moment, then let out a hacking laugh.  
  
"Hehehe, of course, that little bastard. I remember now, he ran in the street, fucker looked up as the car hit him. Hahahaha, we got him good, mother fucker's head broke John's windshield."  
  
Jason looked over him, wanting to kick him for the remark he said, but waited, wanting to ask one more question.  
  
"Can I ask you another question?"  
  
"Fuck you, I don't have time for your questions." Joey tried to turn away, but Jason leaned over, grabbed him by his oily hair, and turned his head in Tom's direction.  
  
"Sure you have time, now ask yourself this: If you killed that boy 8 years ago, why is he here right now in front of you?"  
  
Joey started to speak, but realization kicked in. The boy couldn't be alive, they had killed him.  
  
Joey pulled away from Jason, back peddled on his hands and feet away from the boy towards a small box farther down the intersection.  
  
"No.no.that can't be.he can't be alive, we killed him.he was dead before his ass hit the concrete.how can he be here."  
  
Quicker than he looks, he jumped up and ran for the box, reaching in and grabbing a knife. It was once a butcher knife, but exposure to rain and air has left it full and rusty. He started to swing it around, mumbling about people coming closer.  
  
"Joey.Joey.might as well put that down, you know the stories of the crow don't you?"  
  
His mind wandered before answering. "This boy ain't no crow, they don't chose them young. Wait a minute, there ain't no such thing as the crow, it's a fairytale, like mother goose and loch ness. This boy must be his twin, yeah, that has to be it.NO, NO, there was no twin, I remember..this can't be real"  
  
Joey's eyes faltered for a moment, and that is when Jason took the initiative, coming in and kicking Joey in the crotch. He dropped the knife and cupped his balls, his body dropping to the ground. Jason picked up the knife and came around Joey.  
  
"Joey.you are going to die today, within a couple of moments.and do you know why?" He saw Joey's head shake no. "This is why you are going to die." and Jason laid his bare hands on Joey's head. Images Joey has tried to forget came back at him, ten-fold. He tried to break away but with no luck, Jason locked his fingers into Joey's skin, blood started to drip from how hard he was digging them in.  
  
When the last image was put into Joey's head, Jason let go, backing a step away. Joey's body swayed back and forth, trying not to take any of that in.  
  
"I.i.i.i.i.i.i.i.i.I'm.I'm.I'm.I'm.I'm.s.s.s.s.s.so.so.so.so."  
  
Jason didn't let him finish, knew what he was going to say but it wouldn't have brought anyone back, wouldn't have calmed the crow. Blood must be spilled for repentance, and that is what Jason was going to do to.  
  
He took the rusty blade and brought it around Joey's throat. Joey didn't move once. He tried to slice through the skin but it wasn't sharp enough, only made a mark. Jason looked at the sky, said a prayer for forgiveness, then laid Joey back and, using the rusty knife, started to use the knife as a saw on his jugular.  
  
"Tom", Jason said, "please turn around."  
  
Tom did as asked, and Jason continued what he was doing until Joey had a whole new view on how his life was spent  
  
*************************************************  
  
The sun was setting as they exited the alleyway, Jason's jacket covered in blood, his hands bleeding from repetitive movements of the knife. He ditched the jacket in the trashcan, and they exited the alleyways the same way they came in.  
  
"Where to next?" Jason asked.  
  
They stopped, the crow cawed, Tom closed his eyes for a moment and listened.  
  
When he opened them up, he looked to Jason and said, "The police station."  
  
"Why? Is he in jail?"  
  
"No, " Tom shook his head, "He's a police officer."  
  
***SORRY IT TOOK FOREVER TO ADD ANOTHER, WASN'T GOING TO BEFORE I GOT A REVIEW REMINDING ME THAT I SHOULD FINISH WHAT I START.  
  
REVIEWS ARE WELCOME, SO IS CRITICISM, DON'T BE SHY, THIS IS A NEW ANGLE FOR THE CROW, IT WON'T BE PERFECT, BUT IT WON'T SUCK EITHER.  
  
REFRESHEDAPPROACH.*** 


	5. Life and Death

The journey from alleyway to the police station took an hour, an hour for Jason to think, to understand, to realize that he was about to go into a police station and kill a cop. He was going to kill someone whose whole job was to protect and to serve, to be there for the neighborhood. He shouldn't be doing this.  
  
Tom noticed it too, the hesitation in Jason's eyes.  
  
"Are you ok Jason?" Tom's soft voice said.  
  
"No Tom, I'm not ok. I can't do this, not suppose to do this. I'm not like you, I'm alive. I wasn't brought back to exact vengeance, I'm on earth to pay for my own stupidity."  
  
"No Jason, there is more to it than that. The crow knows, knows about you, about your life, knows where your future is. You are suppose to help me, it was destined."  
  
"By who? This crow that speaks to you!!! We are on the way to go kill a cop, a policeman. We are going into a police station full of people with GUNS and the crow expects us to kill him? With what? The smell coming off of my body?"  
  
Tom looks at Jason, stops walking, waits for Jason to stop too.  
  
"Jason, the crow knows about you. Let's go to the police station, then afterwards it'll tell you what you want to know." Tom was pleading now, puppy dog eyes any mother couldn't resist. But Jason wasn't a puppy, wasn't the kind to get all emotional over chick flicks. But Tom's eyes pulled him in, changed him. He knew he had to do it, Tom couldn't.  
  
"Let's go, we are almost there."  
  
They continued to walk along the street; passed several more stop lights, turned right twice, and came into view of the police station. It was well lit, lights on all over, police officers walking around outside, incoming, outgoing.  
  
"How." was all Jason said before Tom pulled his hand, leading him to the front door. They opened automatically, a whoosh of heat hit their faces. To the right was an officer, didn't even give them a second glance. Several feet in stood a huge desk, raised 2 feet over Jason's head. An overweight cop sat at the chair there. Officers passed in front of the odd pair, looked them over, but no one ever stopped. Two officers waited with metal detectors, scanned them both. When they were done they went back to the post.  
  
"May I help you?"  
  
Jason looked forward, the overweight man had spoken.  
  
"Uhhhh."  
  
"We are looking for Lieutenant McDully please." Tom jumped in. Jason had forgotten that he didn't know the name of the next one.  
  
"And why are you looking for him?"  
  
Jason stepped in to answer this one. "He was working on a case for us, regarding this little boy's mom."  
  
The man looked them both over. "Lieutenant McDully only handles homicide."  
  
"Exactly."  
  
The man looked them both over again, and then picked up the phone, calling for McDully.  
  
"Yeah, McDully.I know you don't want to be bothered but I have two.no, men.older, maybe a bum, younger boy around 8, 9 years of age.ok, I will."  
  
He hung up the phone, turned to them. "Ok, first door on the right. It's an isolation chamber, don't mind that. He is just finishing up on a previous case."  
  
They walked down the hall and came to the first door they saw. Jason knocked and waited for a reply.  
  
"Come."  
  
Opening the door, they enter a small room with a barred window, a small table with two chairs. McDully is sitting at the table, and doesn't take his eyes away from what he is doing.  
  
"What do you want, I'm rather busy with this case?"  
  
Jason coughs, clearing his throat before speaking.  
  
"My name is Jason, this is Tom, and."  
  
"Front desk says it's regarding someone's mom. What is it about?"  
  
"Do you remember me?" Tom asks.  
  
McDully looks ups, measures him up and down, then goes back to his paperwork.  
  
"No."  
  
Tom continues. "Eight years ago you and two friends hit a little boy in a car. You were in the backseat."  
  
McDully stops what he is doing, looks back up at him.  
  
"Kid, I don't have time for this. I have a lot to do before going home."  
  
".to what?" Tom interrupts. "The crow says."  
  
"The crow?"  
  
".the crow says that you have no family, no real friends. You had made lieutenant by staging the crimes you solved, conspiring with Joey Rigaldo. He'd commit the crimes, you solved them."  
  
McDully looked around, his brow starting to shine from sweat. "Very cute kid, but that is not true. I paid my dues, solved murders these other bastards couldn't."  
  
"That's because you had Joey do it for you."  
  
"Listen kid. I don't have time for this. Now leave before I have some nice policemen show you outside." He tried to look back at his paperwork, but when Jason nor Tom left, he stood up and made a move for the door.  
  
Jason blocked his way. "Look at the boy, really look at him. You'll remember his face."  
  
McDully looked at Tom, and that is when he grabbed McDully's hand. Electricity seemed to have traveled throughout his body for the hair that was on his head went straight up, his body started to shiver. Jason looked at Tom, saw the tears fall down from his cheek as he showed McDully what others saw, what others felt.  
  
Tom let go of McDully, and he fell back, tripping over a chair, his back hitting the wall. He pulled out his 9mm, and pointed it at them.  
  
"Who the fuck are you two??? What the fuck did you do to me???"  
  
Tom looked at McDully and said, "What you felt is what the victims of Joey felt, saw, smelt. It's also what I felt when I was hit by the car you were in."  
  
Recognition crossed his face, remembering Tom.  
  
"You.you are dead."  
  
"The crow brought me back."  
  
"But you can't be here, you can't, you are dead. Those people didn't die in vain, I am in a position to forever change the world."  
  
"You killed innocent people, they didn't deserve that."  
  
"And you don't deserve this either, coming back to haunt me, nothing but a ghost of how I use to be when I was a child. You are not real, and not here."  
  
McDully pulls out his gun, points it at Tom.  
  
"Good-bye ghost."  
  
He pulls the trigger. The bullet seems to leave the gun in slow motion, traveling slowly towards Tom. Jason sees it too, and runs in front of Tom. Suddenly the bullet speeds up, hitting Jason in the left side of his chest. The force of the bullet spins him away from Tom, landing him in the corner by the door. McDully walks towards Jason. Tom tries to stop him but McDully just pushes him to the side. He comes up and flips Jason over, checks him for breathing. Nothing.  
  
"Looks like your friend is dead little boy. Now it's your turn, no more ghosts from the past, no more."  
  
McDully lifts the gun and points. He pulls the trigger back and is about to shoot when a strong arm lifts his shooting hand up, the gun fires, the bullet hits the ceiling. McDully turns and stares into Jason's face.  
  
"Whu.whu."  
  
Jason twists McDully's hand, drops the gun, but doesn't stop twisting till he hears bones crunch and break. He keeps twisting until one of his bones in his arm breaks and rips through the skin. McDully cries out in pain, blood pours from the wound.  
  
"We all must pay for our sins McDully, you should have paid for yours 8 years ago."  
  
Jason takes his other hand and grabs the back of McDully's head, and with a quickness he never thought possible he slams McDully's head onto the protruding bone in his arm. With the force he had applied he watches the skull push down skin and bone, exposing more bone until he sees the tip of the bone come out of the top of McDully's skull.  
  
He lets the body drop to the floor and runs to Tom. After checking that he was ok, he asks him how he is still alive, he felt the bullet enter him.  
  
"We have to go Jason, you'll find out soon enough."  
  
"NO!!! Now."  
  
"Jason, we have to go. The crow silenced the room, but we have to go now before someone opens the door. Wait till we are safe, the crow will tell you."  
  
Tom grabs Jason's hand and they exit the room. No police are rushing the room, waiting to shoot them. They are walking around normally as if nothing happened.  
  
They exit the police station with no question, no one stopping them. They turn the corner, and Tom is trying to pull him in one direction, but Jason practically drags Tom towards a side alley.  
  
Tom is about to question but Jason hushes him.  
  
"How.how am I still alive?"  
  
Tom looks at Jason, then turns his head, waiting for the crow.  
  
Jason lightly touches Tom's face, moving it to meet his eyes.  
  
"How?"  
  
"About 9 ½ years ago you died."  
  
"No I didn't."  
  
".when you were on a bridge about to commit suicide."  
  
Jason is quiet. He remembers that day perfectly, remembers that day like it was yesterday: down on his luck, couldn't take the humiliation anymore of wandering the streets, a nobody, tired of begging for food or money.  
  
"That is not possible, I didn't jump."  
  
"You were about to when you heard a car squealing. You were about to turn around when the car hit you. You were killed instantly."  
  
"NO.NO.THAT IS NOT TRUE.!!!" Jason yelled. "If I died then how can I be here now?"  
  
Tom looks away from Jason, knowing Jason had the answer to that question.  
  
"No.the crow.I can't be.If I'm dead why would I come back, I have no need for vengeance."  
  
"Jason.," Tom said to him, grabbing his hand, pulling him closer to him, "you weren't suppose to die that day, you were wrongfully killed. The car squealed out of control."  
  
Jason looked up as the crow squawked, coming to land on his shoulder. Looking into it's dark eyes, the crow showed him the future he could never have: he was about to jump, but decided not to, to change his life, to be a better man; he got a job at a diner, then worked up to better jobs; he got a place of his own, then, 2 years to the day after graduating, he saw his parents for the first time in years; tears had flowed down his face, he was happy once again; he went back to college, received his diploma in math/science, a minor in philosophy, and became a scientist; before he died at the age of 96, he had done the one thing no one could: he cured cancer.  
  
Or would have, if he had lived. 


	6. Loose Ends

Jason closes his eyes, taking in all he has seen, all he has felt. He would have been somebody, would have saved millions of people, if not for a car accident. If not for some punk hitting me.  
  
He looks to the crow, speaking directly to it, asking why he was to come back.  
  
The crow kept eye contact with him, not words but images entered his head. He saw, from the crow's perspective, the car coming. He saw himself start to turn but get stopped by the front of the car. The car then moved back, someone got out. He heard swearing from that person, then he motioned for someone in the car to get out and help him. They lifted Jason's body and threw it over the bridge. Then they got back in and drove off.  
  
Tom tried to break the contact between them, but Jason put his hand up and motioned for silence. He never let his eyes gaze away from the crow, waiting for the rest of the story. He saw a newspaper article drifting on the same river his body had been dumped (showing a year and a half later). On the shore somebody was coming out of the water, walking towards the rocks. In the moonlight they were hunched over, swaying as if drunk. They turned, showing it was Jason. He walked along the riverfront towards a fire he saw in the distance.  
  
Jason looked away, not wanting to see more, but the crow squawked, bringing Jason to look around again. A last image was shown to him, of the occupants of the car. They looked familiar to him. The passenger and the boy in the backseat, he has seen them before.  
  
"No.come on, no way.that is just too coincidental!"  
  
Tom paced away from Jason as he moved away from him, the crow lifting and landing on a nearby dumpster. Tom stopped pacing and leaned up against one of the alley's walls, watching Jason as he moved around.  
  
"Those two men I just killed.when they were boys they killed me? Them and the driver.they hit me with their car.and I came back a year-and-a-half later to take vengeance on them.but I didn't, I didn't know where I was, didn't even know I had died.Then they hit another boy, Tom.and if I had done what I was brought back to do then he never would have died."  
  
Tears streaked down Tom's face, looking down at the ground away from Jason. The crow remained silent as realization kicked in for Jason, the first time in 9 ½ years. Realization that he was really dead, that he has been wandering around this whole time trying to find something that wasn't there, that he was suppose to be the Archangel of Death, to kill 3 boys to send himself to heaven, hell, wherever he was suppose to go.  
  
The crow squawked. Tom lifted his head, using his shirt to wipe away the tears. He got off the wall and walked towards Jason. Jason turned, looking down at Tom, then dropped to a knee and gave him a hug. Tears fell from both of their eyes as they cried in each others arms, not minding the passerbys that looked at them, thinking them to be crazy.  
  
Stars twinkled and passed in the night sky before either stopped. Looking at each other, Jason stood up and came to the crow.  
  
"Show me where he is?"  
  
A sparkle shined in the crow's eye, then an image and a name showed up in Jason's and Tom's mind: Steve Cappini, and a picture of a huge house, metal fence, the address 1225 Cornwell Street.  
  
The image had just left their minds when the crow got up and started to fly out of the alleyway, and head south.  
  
"Let's go Tom," Jason said to him.  
  
"Will we be going home soon, really home, back to my mom?"  
  
Jason hesitated at first, not sure if he should bring his hopes up. "Yes, we will be home soon, you to your mom, me to whatever is destined for me."  
  
They left the alley way, made their way down the street, walked several blocks before they turned right, headed east.  
  
About a mile down the road they stopped underneath a tree that overhung the sidewalk.  
  
The crow was on top of a metal pole, at the address 1225 Cornwell Street. It was looking around. Jason closed his eyes, letting himself see what the crow was seeing: guards. They were carrying guns with them, some handguns; others were carrying semi-automatics.  
  
'Who was this guy?' Jason thought, and the crow responded: It showed him a headline, an older paper, or a man dying, Joseph Cappini, mafia hitman.  
  
This is his son?!?!?  
  
A squawk confirmed this as the crow left the pole and came to rest in the tree above them.  
  
This ought to be interesting. They were going to break into a mobster's house and kill one of them, then expect to come back.  
  
They looked at each other, Tom and Jason, and with acknowledgement in their eyes, they left the comfort of the tree and crossed the street towards the final chapter of their story together. 


	7. Trip Home

Each step towards the gate brought the night farther down upon them. Within eight feet of the gate the wind, which was blowing fierce a moment ago, died to nothing. Within six feet the barking of the neighborhood dogs ended in a wheezing noise. Within four feet the gods blew their breath across the street, fog so thick seeing a foot in front of you was a blessing. Within two feet Jason and Tom came to the gate, completely hidden by the fog.  
  
Tom slid through the bars as Jason climbed effortlessly over it, not minding the security cameras that were following him around. He knew they couldn't see him nor Tom, didn't care if they did or not. Vengeance was his tonight. Two deaths were on his hands as a child, numerous more as an adult. Tonight he would end it here, the suffering he has caused, the loneliness he has been going thru, the peace young Tommy needs.  
  
They crossed the yard towards the front door. They couldn't see where they were going, but a minute ago the crow had risen above the fog, was guiding them towards the house and what awaits inside.  
  
A Doberman came out of a bush to Jason's right, and as it came close it leaped for his neck, jaws open. Jason ducked, pulling Tom down with him. He reached up with his right hand, grabbed the dog's collar, and yanked it back, swinging it towards a nearby tree. Jason found this to be effortless, the dog weighing nothing at all almost. He released the dog, got Tom up, and kept walking towards the house. They didn't turn around when they heard the dog hit the tree, a yelp came the same time sharp noises of bones breaking, then a dull thud of the lifeless body hitting the grass.  
  
They climbed the ten steps to the front door, taking notice of the two guards guarding it.  
  
"Ahem, excuse me, what are you two doing here? We weren't told anyone was coming," asked the guard on the left. They were taller than Jason, each about six foot, four inches, and muscular underneath their loose fitting tux. One was black, the other white, and they looked like the Yin-Yang of the mafia industry.  
  
"We have no appointment, we have no welcome pass," Jason told them, looking each one up and down, trying to figure out how to get past them, "we, me and the boy, Tom, have come for Steve Cappini."  
  
"HEY!!! You will not mention his name in mine or anyone else's presence," the white bodyguard told them, poking Jason in the chest. "How dare you."  
  
Jason took the man's finger, bent it back in a 45 degree angle, and shoved it into his left eye. The man went down, dropped to his knees. The other man brought out his gun and tried to fire it at Jason, but he turned his body, the bullet going past him. He spun around the man, pulling the gun behind his back and pointed it at his back. Using his index finger, he pulled the trigger, bullets entered his lower back, red spots showing up on his chest from where the bullets were coming thru.  
  
The man's body started to go limp, and Jason let him fall. He looked to his right, down at Tom who had covered is eyes the whole time.  
  
"Let's go Tom," he said, grabbing his hand after cleaning most of the blood off. They opened the doors and walked into the awaiting hallway. There was a door at the end, on either side was closet racks for the coats. They marched on forward towards the opposite door. Upon opening it, they were greeted by an empty room. It was huge, a giant chandelier hung from the ceiling, a stairwell on either side of them led to the second floor, a doorway to the left probably led to the living room or kitchen, another doorway to the left led elsewhere.  
  
"Which way?" Tom asked. Jason looked around, not sure how to proceed. If they went into each room, they would eventually be noticed and Cappini would be noticed. But where to start.  
  
"Upstairs," Jason decided.  
  
They went along the left stairwell towards the next floor, peeking around the corner down a hallway. No one was there. They opened the first door they came to on the left side and opened it, no one in there. A bathroom.  
  
"Stay here," Jason said to Tom. "Let me do this alone, you don't need to see what may come."  
  
"But I want."  
  
"No," he whispered, "though we can't die, I can't stand to see you hurt. Please, just wait here for me."  
  
Jason turned towards the door, stopped when he felt Tom's hand on his own. "Be careful" he said, then turned and hid in the bathtub, closing the curtain.  
  
Jason exited the bathroom, and turned left, opening the next door he saw. Inside was a man on the bed, sleeping. He could hear the snoring ten feet away. Jason walked in and up to the man. He placed his left hand on his mouth the same time he cupped his right hand onto his neck.  
  
The man came awake, startled, but couldn't move do to the pressure on his neck.  
  
"Are you Mr. Cappini?" Jason whispered into his ear.  
  
The man shook his head no, and upon doing so Jason applied enough pressure to his larynx to crush it, blocking in the windpipe, killing the man instantly.  
  
He covered the dead man with the blanket and walked out of the room quietly, going to the next room.  
  
There was no one in the next one, or the following two rooms, and Jason moved stealthily across the floor that joined the two hallways from the stairs. There were four rooms here.  
  
Three of them were empty, extra bedrooms possibly. The fourth contained a couple having sex, the woman on top, her back to the door. He opened it quietly, sure that even if he had kicked it open no one could have heard the door open anyways. Looking around for something to use as a weapon, he found nothing. The room had a fireplace, but was probably gas lit. Hmmmm.  
  
Jason turned the gas for the fireplace on, then reached in and pulled the pipe away from the fake wood, pointed towards the bed. He then walked over to them, on the right hand side closest to the door.  
  
"Ahem, excuse me, are you Steve Cappini?"  
  
The woman screamed aloud, the man looked at Jason, trying to figure out where he came from.  
  
"HEY, what the fuck you doing in here mother fucker? I'm going to kill your mother fucking ass for barging in here you mother fucker?"  
  
The man tried to reach the end table for his gun, but couldn't because of the woman still on top of him.  
  
"Please, just answer the question," Jason asked him.  
  
"You are a dead mother fucker. Mr. Cappini you looking for huh, well, you can see him later in hell since you are going there now mot."  
  
Jason turned around, pulled out a book of matches he had on him. He lit one, then lit the whole book, and then threw it at the gas pipe.  
  
"Sorry for the inconvenience, please continue what you were doing."  
  
The lit book of matches ignited the gas, which shot like a ball of fire at the bed, igniting the bed sheets, moving up to the woman's hair and curtains that draped over the bed. The man tried to get up, but with the woman on top lowering herself, applying more pressure to his chest, he couldn't. She kept screaming, using her hands to bat at her head, trying to get the fire out. Burns and sores started to sprout on her back and face, and the pain finally was too much for her as her body dropped onto the man's, pinning him as she burned on top of him. He started to scream too, but Jason didn't wait to see that. He walked out, closed the door, and put a DO NOT DISTURB sign on the doorknob as he left.  
  
He waited in an adjourning room, door cracked, waiting for others to come to the screaming man. Three men came, and upon kicking the door open, he learned that neither of them were Cappini. One man he put his face through drywall, the other two he grabbed the sides of there heads, and banged them together. He heard a crack, kept his eyes up to the ceiling, and looked back when he felt the bodies slide from his grasp. Blood and brain tissue still clung to his hands. I guess 'm a lot stronger than I thought, he said as he closed the door again and went downstairs.  
  
Jason wiped his hands on his jacket as he went down the right hand stairs, then went thru the door at the bottom. It was a dining room, no one inside, no adjourning rooms or doors either. He closed back up and turned around, came face to face with a man with a gun pointing to his head.  
  
"Mother fucker, I don't know who you are, don't know what the fuck you are doing here, but you now have 10 seconds to explain to me why you are fucking with me."  
  
"I guess you are Cappini?" Jason stated.  
  
The man laughed, looked at him Jason, then shot him in the leg.  
  
Jason fell to his side, not really in pain, but using this to his advantage.  
  
"That you are right my bum-looking friend. Now, who are you, who sent you, what do you want, and if I fucked your wife I'm sure she was bad."  
  
Jason laughed at this, then tried to get up, faking that he was in pain. He knew the bullet wound had closed up, and he reached down to smear some of the blood over the hole to bring about no questions about this.  
  
"You are a killer."  
  
"Dumb ass, I'm a hitman, of course I am."  
  
"You killed a bum on a bridge 9 ½ years ago, and a little boy 8 years ago, before you were a hitman."  
  
Cappini looked at Jason, then shot him in the other leg, dropping Jason again.  
  
"I kill people all the time."  
  
"But not when you were young."  
  
He laughed loud, his voice echoing throughout the hallway. He turned his attention back to Jason.  
  
"When I was a boy, I had killed a bum, a boy, two schoolgirls, a nun, and four babies, all before I turned 18. Now, don't be upset if I don't remember a bum or a kid, because I don't. I don't remember anyone I killed. Why? Why should I, they are dead."  
  
Cappini pulls out his cellphone, dials a number that can be heard upstairs.  
  
"Come down." he speaks into it, then turns it off.  
  
A door can be heard upstairs, followed by footsteps. Jason looked up, seeing a man in a red suit bringing down Tom. Tom wasn't conscious, or if he was he was acting very well to the part. The man had his arm around his head and arms, Tom's legs dragging behind them.  
  
"Now," Cappini said as the man stood next to him, "why would you bring a boy here to the slaughterhouse you made? Are you sick, or just majorly fucked in the head?"  
  
The man passed Tom to Cappini, then Cappini slapped Tom several times, trying to wake him. Tom's eyes flew open, looking up at him.  
  
"You." Tom wheezed out of his mouth.  
  
"Me? Who am I to you? Do I know you like I should know this man here?" pointing to Jason.  
  
"You.you killed me."  
  
"Son, if I killed you, you wouldn't be here right now."  
  
He turned towards Jason, the gun pointing at Tom's head.  
  
"Now we get to the bottom of this. Who are you?"  
  
"My name's Jason."  
  
"Jason.hmmm.don't know a Jason. How do I know you?"  
  
"Years ago you killed me, hit me with your car on a bridge."  
  
Cappini started to laugh, then stopped himself, mouth wide open. He closed it, looked back at Jason.  
  
"No one knew about that. There was only three of us there."  
  
"Four," Jason interrupted.  
  
"Three alive dumb fuck. You can't be him, he was a bum on the street. Looked like he was going to off himself, I just gave him a hand. How do you know about it?"  
  
"I'm the bum."  
  
Cappini moved closer to Jason, bringing Tom with him. He was a foot from him, the gun still at the boy's head.  
  
"Now, you tell me the truth, or I kill the boy, a bullet through the head, no coming back."  
  
Jason looked at him, then looked at Tom. Tom was crying, not wanting to die, but he knew there was no other way. This killer wanted to spill blood, the truth was being told. And though he knew neither him nor Tom could die, just going to see the boy get shot was making his blood boil.  
  
"That is the truth."  
  
Cappini let out a sigh, looked to Tom, kissed his forehead, lifted his head, then shot him. The bullet entered Tom's skull cleanly, but upon exit dressed the stairs in a scarlet color. Bits of skull and tissue lay on the newly colored carpet.  
  
He let out a laugh, happy with his handiwork, then looked up into Jason's eyes. He took a step back, suddenly feeling fear for the first time in years. Jason reached out, ripped the gun out of his hand. With it came Cappini's hand and wrist. He tried to scream but Jason hit him with his own hand, sending him to the left and head first into the door. The man who had brought Tom down pulled out his gun and shot Jason in the chest, four rounds piercing his stomach, the other a lung. He kept coming.  
  
The man tried to turn around but Jason grabbed him, bringing his knee into his groin, then, when he bent over, he brought his knee up and into his nose, driving bone shards through his brain. He hit the floor with a thump, dead.  
  
Not finished just yet, Jason turned towards Cappini. He was trying to get up, but was slipping on the blood from his missing hand. He bent over and picked up Cappini, then dragged him over to Tom. Leaning forward, he whispered "Tom" into his ear, and the boy turned around, looking at Jason.  
  
"Is it over?" the boy asked.  
  
"Not yet. What are we to do with him?"  
  
".y.yyy.yooouuu.r.are..ree.reeaaaly.dd.dea.dead." Cappini gasped.  
  
"I told you. You did this to us, both me and the boy."  
  
Jason grabbed Cappini by the hair and dragged him to the dining room. He lifted him up by his arm, slamming him to the table. A knife block stood separate, on a side table.  
  
"Bring those to me," Jason said to Tom.  
  
Obediently he did, placing the knife block next to Jason.  
  
"Cappini, you are going to feel what we feel, except it is going to last all night. Let me know when you are ready?"  
  
Cappini tried to talk, to say something, but Jason punched him in the mouth, teeth shattered, fillings came lose, falling to the back of his throat.  
  
"Never mind, you didn't give us a choice, you won't get one either. Tom, go into the next room, there is a T.V. there I believe. Watch some shows, they have changed over the years. Me and Steve here have some catching up to do."  
  
Tom left t the room, closed the door as he hear the first gargle leave Cappini's mouth.  
  
It lasted until the morning dawn; Tom guessed it to be 6 hours.  
  
When he was done, Jason came out and walked over to Tom, picked him up, then left the premises. No guards were there, the gate was wide open. They walked out and down the street, made the correct turns towards the cemetery.  
  
The morning light was just shining over the cemetery fence when Jason walked through them, ending their journey, the trip they have wanted for years to come: to go back to their loved ones, away from the pain they were put through. They were finally home.  
  
  
  
WELL, THANK YOU FOR THOSE WHO HAVE READ AND REVIEWED, OR FOR THOSE WHO HAVE JUST READ IT..MY FIRST STORY, FINISHED  
  
AS BEFORE, PLEASE LEAVE COMMENTS ON IMPROVEMENT, ONLIKES AND DISLIKES.  
  
THANK YOU AGAIN TO ALL, ENJOY THE NEW YEAR, 2003 WILL BE BIGGER AND BETTER AS ALWAYS  
  
REFRESHEDAPPROACH 


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